nything else at all! Dear old lady.
It would indeed be a blessing if her principles could be carried out in
this warring and jarring world. But as this is rather difficult, what
we ought to be careful about is, that we never fight except in a good
cause and with a clear conscience.

It was well for Martin Rattler, on that great day, that the formation of
the ground favoured him. The spot on which the fight took place was
uneven, and covered with little hillocks and hollows, over which Bob
Croaker stumbled, and into which he fell,--being a clumsy boy on his
legs--and did himself considerable damage; while Martin, who was firmly
knit and active as a kitten, scarcely ever fell, or, if he did, sprang
up again like an India-rubber ball. Fair-play was embedded deep in the
centre of Martin's heart, so that he scorned to hit his adversary when
he was down or in the act of rising; but the thought of the fate that
awaited the white kitten if he were conquered, acted like lightning in
his veins, and scarcely had Bob time to double his fists after a fall,
when he was knocked back again into the hollow, out of which he had
risen. There were no _rounds_ in this fight; no pausing to recover
breath. Martin's anger rose with every blow, whether given or received;
and although he was knocked down flat four or five times, he rose again,
and without a second's delay rushed headlong at his enemy. Feeling that
he was too little and light to make much impression on Bob Croaker by
means of mere blows, he endeavoured as much as possible to throw his
weight against him at each assault; but Bob stood his ground well, and
after a time seemed even to be recovering strength a little.

Suddenly he made a rush at Martin, and, dealing him a successful blow on
the forehead, knocked him down; at the same time he himself tripped over
a molehill and fell upon his face. Both were on their legs in an
instant. Martin grew desperate. The white, kitten swimming for its
life seemed to rise before him, and new energy was infused into his
frame. He retreated a step or two, and then darted forward like an
arrow from a bow. Uttering a loud cry, he sprang completely in the air
and plunged--head and fists together, as if he were taking a dive--into
Bob Croaker's bosom! The effect was tremendous. Bob went down like a
shock of grain before the sickle; and having, in their prolonged
movements, approached close to the brink of the stream, both he and
Martin